


Misconduct

by Felixbug



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Gags, Light Bondage, M/M, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5609491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“…half stood up. One hand pulling my hair,” Anders said. He leaned forward in his chair, and scooted closer, his leg slipping between Hawke’s. “The other stroking his cock. He had me open my mouth and put out my tongue, whimpering while he jerked off inches from my face.” His hand slipped under the desk and rested on Hawke’s thigh, and he raised one eyebrow. “Is that what I said?”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“More or less.” Hawke’s pulse was thundering in his ears – he should put a stop to this. He should add this to the list of Anders’ serious lapses in judgement. He should pass this disciplinary over to a manager whose judgement wasn’t compromised. He should do a lot of things, but instead he turned to the final page of the transcript.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“How fired am I?” Anders murmured.</i>
</p><p>Call centre AU. Anders is a terrible employee, but fortunately the department manager is easily distracted by his other skills. Inappropriate workplace behaviour and a fair amount of kinky smut, not a whole lot of plot!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misconduct

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly important disclaimer: although I do work in a call centre, this is entirely fictional and not based on any call centre in particular, or any real people - it's all DA characters in a generic inbound sales department of a company that doesn't exist (and is a fair bit less professional than my workplace or any other call centre I know of!). 
> 
> Credit to Goose (Fethermage) for endlessly sinning about Hawke in a suit for dragging me into writing my first AU when I should have been working on BTS :p
> 
> Past Anders/Karl, it's mentioned that they're no longer together but there's no angst, Karl's probably alive in this AU tbh it's a fluffy one.

Anders leaned back in his chair, twisting gently side to side as he flung his lanky legs up onto his desk. His bony knees jutted through the frayed rips in his jeans, and his battered boots squeaked on the wood as he stretched out with a groan. He looped his headset around the back of his neck, typing in his login code as he took a sip of strong, bitter coffee. It tasted vile – cheap and burned and far too hot – but it began to slowly wake him up. He rubbed the remains of last night’s eyeliner from his eyes, and gathered his hair into a loose bun. Three minutes to go until his shift started. Twenty in the queue. _Fuck_.

“Hey, Blondie.”

He twisted in his chair as Varric sauntered over. As far as managers went, he supposed Varric wasn’t too bad. Often late, always hungover, and Anders was _sure_ that much chest hair on show wasn’t really appropriate in the workplace. But he didn’t fuss over targets, and he could usually be relied on to make complaints go away. Today, though, he looked worried. Worried wasn’t good.

“Yeah?”

“You fucked up.” Varric perched on the edge of Anders’ desk. “Feet down, mate.”

“Ugh.” Anders folded himself into something approaching a normal shape. “Fucked up how much?”

“You know the mute button?” Varric pointed to Anders’ phone. “It’s for sneezes. Coughs. When a customer’s surname is Crapper and you can’t stop laughing.” Anders snorted, and Varric grinned back, but he still looked tense. “It’s also not – uh – _reliable._ ”

“Ah fuck, what’d I say?” Anders thought back over the many, _many_ times he’d hit mute to rant to Isabela about a customer. This could be bad, awful, or worse.

“Let me put it this way.” Varric grimaced. “There are things I _really_ didn’t need to know about you and your ex.”

“Oh.” Anders’ heart stopped. It wasn’t bad, awful, or worse. It was catastrophic. “Oh, _fuck._ ”

***

Hawke sat down at his desk, staring out of the window across the carpark. He hated disciplinaries. He could think of a thousand things he’d rather be doing than asking a bored, unmotivated twenty-something why they had been late every day three weeks in a row, only to be persistently told it was the bus company’s fault. He flipped open the file in front of him and glanced over the notes. Misuse of the mute button, inappropriate comments – one of _those_ then. He couldn’t help being sympathetic – he’d started out on the phones himself, and knew sometimes it was _so_ tempting to hit mute and call someone an asshole safe in the knowledge they couldn’t hear. Most of the time. He flipped to the next page, and his eyes widened.

“Am I in the right place?”

Hawke glanced up, trying very hard to erase the transcript from his mind. He could feel his face flushing as he met the amber gaze of the skinny blond leaning against the doorframe. Since becoming department manager he hadn’t had much chance to get to know the customer advisors, and until that moment he hadn’t connected the name on the file with the distractingly gorgeous man he’d seen around the office. _Shit,_ he thought, trying hard not to let his mind run away with the mental image of _those_ lips and the words on the page in front of him. This was going to be hard – _difficult,_ he thought quickly, as if a different choice of words might save him from the instant rush of arousal that raced down his spine. He cleared his throat and nodded, gesturing to the seat opposite him.

“Anders?” he asked.

“That’s me.”

The blond closed the door behind him, tight jeans clinging to a small but perfect ass that Hawke tried not to stare at, then threw himself into the chair. He was wearing the most hideous t-shirt Hawke had ever seen, printed all over with cat faces in every colour of the rainbow. There wasn’t much of a dress code at Kirkwall Marketing for anyone outside of management, but _still_ , surely there had to be a limit. Hawke tried to focus on judging Anders’ fashion sense, and not on the very clear outline of nipple rings through the thin fabric.  

Anders drummed his fingertips on the desk, biting his lip. He was clearly trying very hard to sit casually, legs sprawled out under the desk and slouched low in the chair, but Hawke could tell he was nervous. He couldn’t blame him, really – this was a mess.

“Is your team manager joining us?”

“He was meant to be.” Anders raised one hand to fiddle with a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind his ear and toying awkwardly with the gold hoop in his lobe. “Bela got a caller asking to speak to a manager, he had to take over – said he’d be through as soon as he could. We can start if you want, I don’t mind.”

“As long as you’re sure..?”

“I’m not getting out of this without a written warning, right? At best?” He cringed. “I don’t see it making a difference waiting.”

“Alright.” Hawke cleared his throat again, flipping back to the first page in the file. It wasn’t following company procedure, but he couldn’t sit here making small talk waiting for Varric. He’d literally die. He wished he wasn’t wearing a damn suit – he was uncomfortably warm, and could feel a thin trickle of sweat running down his back. “I uh – see there was a complaint logged on Monday, referencing a call from last Thursday at 10.52am. Can you tell me what you remember about the incident?”

“Sure.” Anders ran his fingers through his hair with a groan, loosening his ponytail. His hair fell around his shoulders, and he twisted it between his long, elegant fingers as he spoke. “I had this customer on the phone – Ms… Stannard?”

“That’s right.”

“It was a long call. I – you used to be on the phones right? Varric said you started out on his team – still calls you the sales Champion.” He shot Hawke a grin – and Hawke knew a façade when he saw one, but Anders made it look damn good even as he failed to hide his nervousness. Hawke nodded, and Anders continued.

“So you know when you get a customer where it just takes _ages_? Every single thing I said she had five questions, just really…” he made a frustrated noise and waved one hand. “Really annoying. Finally got to the payment screen and she had to go find her credit card. Bela had just finished a call and I just thought I’d take a minute, you know? Hit mute and have a chat. I know we’re not meant to, but when customers just wander off _everyone_ does it. I didn’t know I was on speaker, and I _definitely_ didn’t know my mute button wasn’t working.”

“I know. If that’s all it had been we might not be here.” Hawke sighed. “You know better.”

“Yeah, I know. But Bela asked the wrong questions and I didn’t think and – well, here we are.” Anders pulled a face. “I don’t remember my _exact_ wording but…”

“The call’s been listened to,” Hawke said. “I’ve not read the transcript – skimmed a little of it before you got here but – look, I’m required to go over it in case you dispute anything that’s been written down.”

“Oh Maker.” Anders put his hand over his mouth.

Hawke turned the page. Without entirely realising it, he reached up and loosened his tie slightly, swallowing hard as he felt the rush of heat crawl up the back of his neck again. He shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the heated ache building low in his body, or the slight tightness of his pants as he moved. He glanced up, and caught Anders’ gaze. He still looked wary, but Hawke caught the narrowing of his eyes and the slow smirk tugging at his lips as he dropped his hand. He’d _noticed._ Damn him, he’d noticed.

“So, Ms Stannard said she was going to find her card, and the transcript notes that she audibly set the phone down.” Hawke trailed his finger down the page. “I will take that into account – you obviously didn’t intend her to hear you.”

“Maker, no.”

“So you started a conversation with one of your teammates about a recent night out – the complaint is about the uh – the conversation starting from _here._ ” Hawke looked down intently at the page, definitely not wanting to meet Anders’ eye for this. “’Not the most drunk I’ve ever been. That’d be - shit – Karl’s birthday, back when we were at uni.’ There’s a response from your teammate that wasn’t picked up, and then you replied…” Hawke swallowed. “’I sucked him off on a bus. Brutally… _brutally_ _facefucked_ might be more accurate.’” He forced himself to look up. “Never mind the fact that you were on a call, do you think this is an appropriate conversation to have in the workplace at all?”

“Not really.” Anders bit his lip, and Hawke _thought_ it was meant to be a guilty expression but Maker, he suddenly looked a lot more sure of himself. Anders leaned back in his chair, running his thumb across his lower lip. “It was Isabela I was talking to, she asked for more details. I’m pretty sure she thought my call was finished, though.” Hawke doubted that was true, but he decided not to push it.

“So you…” Hawke glanced down the page. “You gave her more details.”

“I did.” Anders licked his lips – _nervous, he’s just nervous, he thinks he’s going to get fired and he quite possibly is – of course he’s not doing that on purpose,_ Hawke thought, and stared down firmly at the page.

“So next you said – ‘Okay, picture this. Empty bus – me straddling Karl on the back seat, grinding on his dick with my tongue in his mouth. Him moaning, me biting a little – and the bus stops suddenly and I’m _down_ , flat on my ass laughing so hard I can’t breathe. I grab his thighs to pull myself up and I can see that he’s hard, and he’s obviously thinking what I’m thinking because he gets a handful of my hair and makes this noise…’” Hawke glanced up at Anders. “And it says here – ‘customer advisor grunts loudly’.”

“Not _loudly_ ,” Anders said. “More like… _nngh._ ” He bit his lip, the bridge of his nose scrunching as he demonstrated the wordless, filthy syllable. He caught Hawke’s eye, and raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll ah – strike ‘loudly’ from the record, if you prefer.” Hawke tugged at his tie again. “Then you kept going – where was I – ‘I started rubbing him through his jeans and he pulled my hair – really, _really_ hard – and growled _suck it…’”_

Hawke broke off at Anders’ chuckle. He glared at him, and the blond fell silent, face flushing as he looked down at the desk.

“Sorry,” Anders said, not sounding sorry at all. “You just – I’m sorry but you did the _voice._ ”

“I didn’t intend to…”

“Of course, of course. Didn’t mean to accuse you of anything.” Anders raised an eyebrow. “Just a little odd to hear my boss growling ‘suck it’. Not something I imagined hearing – at least not like this.”

“I imagine it was _odd_ for Ms Stannard to hear from a representative of this company,” Hawke said, summoning his professional voice and trying to ignore the very definite pressure of his erection straining his pants. He wasn’t going to think about what Anders had just implied – absolutely not. He couldn’t shift the image of Anders on his knees, that long blond hair coiled in his fist, his lips parted and skin flushed from drink and arousal as he ran those elegant fingers over the outline of Hawke’s cock. He shouldn’t be thinking like this – this was how sexual harassment cases started, this was how careers ended. Anders smirked, and Hawke returned his eyes to his transcript.

“Your headset picked up your teammate here – she said ‘so you did?’ and you replied ‘obviously.’” Hawke turned the page. “And uh, continued – ‘He did the voice – the one that makes you want to get on your knees and do whatever you’re told, you know? I was already on my knees so I had a head start. I was literally drooling when he unbuttoned his jeans. I tried to tease at first but he tasted too good and I – honestly, I just let him fuck my throat. On my knees on the bus, both his hands in my hair shoving me down on his dick, thrusting up into my mouth until I gagged. I…’” Hawke set the transcript down on the desk, smoothing the page with his fingertips. “Perhaps you should read over this and sign it, I’m not sure it’s necessary for me to go through the full thing.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, sure.” Anders rolled his shoulders back, arching his back to stretch. He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking it out with a sigh as he slowly ran his tongue over his lips. “It’s a little graphic, if it’s too much for you to handle…”

“I can assure you, there is nothing you can say that will make me _uncomfortable,_ ” Hawke retorted. “This is about the reputation of the business – about having respect for your customers and your colleagues – I am here to investigate this incident and make sure nothing of its like occurs again. This conversation you had is simply…” he made an awkward, dismissive gesture at the transcript, feeling his face flush. “It is repetitive and dull.”

“Of course, of course.” Anders’ flimsy veneer of repentance did nothing to hide the teasing curve of his lips.

“I’ll just – get it over with. You kept going – ’I remember drooling all over my chin. He kept pushing my head right down and his – his balls were soaked in spit,’” Hawke read firmly, trying to summon an air of professional disappointment and cool detachment. “’He was leaking pre-come on my tongue, and I was like…’ the transcript says ‘descriptive noise’.”

“Should I demonstrate?”

“Absolutely not.” Hawke felt a brush against his inner calf, and swallowed a strangled gasp. Anders murmured an apology and pulled back – and it was an accident, of _course_ it was an accident, the man was leggy and clumsy, that was all – but Hawke caught the wicked gleam in his eyes as he sat up straighter.

“’He didn’t last long.’” Hawke read. He was painfully hard, and wondered if there was any way he could subtly adjust himself without Anders noticing. The blond’s gaze was fixed on him, and he knew his every move was being scrutinized. He felt the definite, deliberate brush of a booted foot up his calf again, and bit back a groan. “’I thought he was going to come down my throat, but he pulled me off his cock at the last second. He…’”

“…half stood up. One hand pulling my hair,” Anders said. He leaned forward in his chair, and scooted closer, his leg slipping between Hawke’s. “The other stroking his cock. He had me open my mouth and put out my tongue, whimpering while he jerked off inches from my face.” His hand slipped under the desk and rested on Hawke’s thigh, and he raised one eyebrow. “Is that what I said?”

“More or less.” Hawke’s pulse was thundering in his ears – he should put a stop to this. He should add this to the list of Anders’ serious lapses in judgement. He should pass this disciplinary over to a manager whose judgement wasn’t compromised. He should do a lot of things, but instead he turned to the final page of the transcript.

“How fired am I?” Anders murmured.

“This – is unacceptable.” Hawke read the final few lines, and slid the transcript across the table to Anders. “Gross misconduct.”

“Nothing gross about it.” Anders smirked, and his fingertips dug into Hawke’s thigh. “’He came over my tongue,’” he read. “’And my face, hot and thick and sticky…”

“It’s not quite as _descriptive_.”

“I’m giving you the better version.” Anders grinned, leaning closer, and he pushed the transcript aside to run his fingertips up Hawke’s chest, toying with his tie. “He tasted so fucking good – all heat and salt on my tongue, dripping down my neck, and he ran his fingers over my cheek – like this.” He skimmed his fingers through Hawke’s beard onto his face. “And he scooped his come into my mouth and fed me every last drop.”

“If you think you’re going to get away with this by…”

“I don’t think I’m going to get away with anything.” Anders’ lips quirked into a teasing smirk. “I need to be punished. Severely. And I’m at your mercy.”

Hawke wasn’t sure which of them moved first. It was an inevitability – a slow collision that had been in motion since Anders first closed the office door behind him. _Damn him,_ Hawke thought, as the blond’s lips met his with a moan. _I should know better,_ as Anders’ lanky body slid onto the surface of the desk and he poured his way into Hawke’s lap. He decided not to think at all, balling one hand into a fist in that infuriating mass of blond hair, bending him back as he growled into his mouth, biting roughly at his lower lip. Anders’ ragged gasps were captured by the press of Hawke’s lips, and his hands cupped Hawke’s face, urging him to kiss him harder, deeper, hot and urgent and whimpering against his lips.

Anders’ hips rocked in his lap, and _Maker_ his ass felt as good as it looked, toned but just soft enough to make Hawke ache to have his fingers biting into the smooth skin, kneading hard, his cock thrusting into Anders’ arching, naked body. He slid his fingers beneath the waistband of Anders’ jeans, clawing his underwear down and groped at the firm muscle, swallowing Anders’ needy whine as he pulled him down more firmly against his cock. He ground against his ass through his suit and the denim of Anders’ jeans – needing more, and needing it _now_. The abandoned transcript on the desk caught his eye – and he knew how this story went. Knew where Anders wanted to be – how he’d sound, how he’d _look_. Hawke shoved himself back in his chair, twisted his fingers in Anders’ hair, and pushed him to the ground.

“Oh _yes_ ,” Anders gasped. He slid to his knees, looking up at Hawke through his lashes as he ran his tongue over his bruised lower lip. His face was flushed, and Hawke could make out the outline of his cock through his tight jeans when he spread his thighs and arched his back.

“I…” Hawke froze, knowing what he wanted – what they both wanted – but horribly aware that this was his _office_ , this was his _job_ , and this beautiful, arrogant little shit had just outsmarted him. “Obviously, I can’t fire you now.”

“Obviously.” Anders smirked. “It’d be one hell of a mood killer.”

“I mean, _I can’t fire you._ ” Hawke threw back his head with a groan as Anders ran his fingers up his inner thigh, trailing them over the bulging outline of his erection. “If I do, all you – have to do – is tell…”

“Sexual harassment in the workplace.” Anders shook his head with a low chuckle, and pulled forward in Hawke’s grip to mouth at his cock through the tented fabric of his pants. “ _Gross_ misconduct.”

“You’ve won, that’s – that’s all I’m saying,” Hawke panted as Anders’ fingers toyed with the zip of his pants. “You don’t have to go through with it.”

“I know.” Anders began to slowly, agonizingly, tug the zip down, and Hawke bit his lip to keep from groaning at the sight. “But I’m weak for a man in a suit, and I’ve wanted you to choke me on your cock from the first day I saw you. Keeping my job is just a perk.”

His hand slipped into Hawke’s pants, freeing his cock from his underwear and stroking lightly as Hawke tightened his hand in Anders’ hair with a groan. They’d worked together for _three years_ , and Hawke had tried to be professional, he really had. But knowing he could have been doing this from the start – knowing Anders had wanted him as much as he had – it was frustrating beyond belief. He’d normally hold back a little the first time – but Anders had made it pretty damn clear how he liked it, and there was only so much teasing Hawke could take.

He stood up, kicking his chair back against the wall with a guttural snarl as he stood over the kneeling blond. Anders’ hand was wrapped around his cock but he swatted it away, stroking himself lightly as he raked his gaze over Anders’ body.

“Take off your shirt,” he said.

“Might be hard with your – _ah_ – hand in my hair.” Anders’ voice broke into a moan as Hawke twisted sharply, forcing his head back.

Hawke let go reluctantly, stepping back to watch as Anders hooked his fingers in the hem of his shirt and slowly drew it up his body. The cocky bastard was still teasing, eyes locked on Hawke’s as he revealed his body inch by inch. Pale skin and bony hips – filling Hawke’s mind with thoughts of Anders riding his cock, his hipbones caught in Hawke’s grip, driven down onto his length to the pace he set. Anders pulled his shirt higher, and yes, his nipples _were_ pierced – seamless gold rings that Hawke wanted to tug until he screamed.

“Enjoying the view?” Anders wriggled his shoulders out of the tight-fitting fabric and started to pull it off over his head. “Shame we don’t video-call – we could have given Ms Stannard a demonstration.”

Hawke slipped his loosened tie off over his head, running the silk between his fingers. He caught the shirt as it slid up Anders’ arms, twisted the fabric and pulled, drawing Anders’ wrists into his grip. Anders gasped, and his ragged breaths became a moan as Hawke pushed him back, and pinned his wrists effortlessly against the surface of the desk. Anders’ body was arched and straining, thighs shaking with tension as he was forced to raise his hips. His body was bowed and helpless beneath Hawke, his lips parted and breath quickened, and a delicate flush appearing on his pale cheeks – and Hawke slipped the tie around his wrists, and pulled it tight.

“If this is too much…”

“Maker, no.” Anders bit his lip, eyes half-closed as he gave another low moan. “Rough’s more than – _nngh_ – alright with me.”

Hawke coiled the tie in his fist, cock throbbing at the needy little sound Anders made as the knot pulled tighter. He shifted forward, feet braced on the floor either side of Anders’ spread thighs, the glistening tip of his cock only centimetres from Anders’ mouth. He could feel his warm breath, and groaned at the sight of Anders’ tongue darting out to wet his lips. He slid his fingertips over his length, gathering the fluid beaded at the tip before reluctantly letting go, and dragging his fingertips over Anders’ slack lower lip.

“Good,” he growled, and Anders’ eager whimper hummed against the sensitive pads of his fingers. He slipped his fingers deeper, groaning at the graze of teeth over his skin, and Anders gagged. Drool trickled down Hawke’s hand, and he felt Anders’ low moan in the heat of his mouth as he pushed his head back. “You like that?”

“Mm…” Anders sucked his fingers, lapping at the tips as Hawke’s breath quickened. “ _Mm._ ”

“You want my cock?” Another hungry moan from Anders, and he nodded, his gaze intense and wanton as he glanced up at Hawke from beneath the messy fall of his hair. “You want to gag on it? Choke on my come?”

Anders whimpered, nodding again as Hawke thrust his fingers between his lips. He jerked them out roughly, leaving Anders gasping as he slid his hand into his hair again and balled it into a fist. Anders’ face was reddened, mouth open and panting, and Hawke _knew_ better than this but right now he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he was at work, didn’t care that Anders was a co-worker – and a deeply irresponsible one, at that – all he cared about was the beautiful man on his knees, erection straining tatty jeans, lips parting eagerly to take his cock.

Hawke rocked forward, pressing the slick head of his cock against Anders’ lips. Anders strained against the clenched fist in his hair, trying to pull forward, to take it all – but Hawke held him steady. He fought against his own urge to bury himself in the blond’s throat, ignoring the flickers of white-hot pleasure that burst through his flesh as Anders’ tongue swirled around the tip of his cock.

Anders’ little, quiet whimpers undid him more than any begging could have done – he was eager, straining and desperate as Hawke let him take the head of his cock between his lips. Hawke could feel him pulling at the tie around his wrists, arms shaking with tension as he struggled for more. Hawke groaned, tightened his grip, and held Anders’ head steady as he slowly rolled his hips and drove his rigid length to the back of Anders’ throat.

Anders gagged – harsh, hoarse, his bare chest heaving as his face flushed and his eyes watered. Hawke almost pulled back, but Anders’ moan of pure, urgent pleasure was all the confirmation he needed – and he thrust again. Anders’ choking gag made his cock twitch between his lips, trickles of drool forced from the corner of Anders’ mouth to drip over his chin. He was flushed and utterly perfect – struggling to push forward, to take it deeper, his heavy eyelids fluttering as his spit-slick lips worked Hawke’s shaft.

Hawke thrust shallowly, aching to bury himself in Anders’ throat but holding back – for now. He slid the head of his cock over Anders’ hot, wet tongue, brushing the back of his throat with every roll of his hips. Anders’ whimpers were broken by shaken breaths and choking moans, bare chest heaving and shoulders shaking as he fought not to gag. A sharp, sudden thrust made him cry out – muffled and urgent, tongue twitching against Hawke’s length. He gagged again, saliva dripping over his jaw, and Hawke’s fingers were shaking as he twisted them in the silky blond strands of Anders’ hair.

“That’s it,” he panted. He thrust again, and Anders keened. “Fuck – that’s it – let me hear you.”

Anders opened his eyes – pupils wide and dark and lashes dampened. He looked incredible – flushed, whimpering and completely submissive. There was still a flash of arrogance in his eyes and the reminder of his wicked smirk still hanging on his parted lips – but he had surrendered control gladly, and his eyes begged for more. Hawke tugged sharply at his hair, eyes locked on Anders’, feeling the high, urgent cry humming against the tip of his cock. He twisted Anders’ head back, thick thighs shaking as he looked down at the lips wrapped around his girth. He couldn’t hold back any more – he slowly, steadily, thrust his cock into the slick grip of Anders’ throat.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Hawke breathed.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away. Anders’ jaw twitched as his mouth was forced further open, lips tight around Hawke’s thick shaft as it slid into him inch by inch. Hawke pushed forward into the tight, wet heat – feeling Anders’ throat tighten as he gagged, then relax as he effortlessly took him down to the base. His balls were pressed against the blond’s chin, damp with spit and rough with stubble. Hawke rolled his hips and Anders’ whimper was barely audible, lost against rigid flesh as Hawke held him steady, his long nose buried in coarse, dark hair.

Hawke couldn’t last long – not like this. It had been too long and Anders was too damn good – lips tight and slick, throat hot and clenching around him. He began to thrust – slowly at first, but Anders’ muffled whines urged him on until he was fucking his throat. Hard, rough, snarling as he drove his length into the tight, wet heat. Anders whimpered, eyes watering and face flushed as he took everything Hawke gave him eagerly, saliva dripping from his jaw and trickling down the straining arch of his throat.

Anders’ hands were clenched into fists against the desk, tie biting into his wrists. Every sharp thrust into his mouth made him shudder – gagging, moaning, arching forward for _more_ as Hawke’s cock throbbed in the tight confines of his throat. Hawke tugged his hair – rough and eager as he slid between his lips – and Anders’ whimpers were lost in the thick flesh stretching his lips and dragging over his tongue.

“I’m close,” Hawke rasped.

Another vicious twist of Anders’ hair made him cry out, and Hawke saw the way the blond’s hips jerked as he thrust helplessly against nothing. His cock was straining at his jeans, and Hawke could see the tension in his splayed thighs and taut abs as he whimpered and choked on Hawke’s cock.

“ _Fuck.”_ Hawke thrust into Anders’ throat, rolling his hips against his damp, flushed face and feeling the hum of Anders’ whimper against his skin. “You want it in your throat?”

“Mm…”

“Over your tongue?”

“ _Mm…”_

Anders’ moans grew more urgent, tongue working against the base of Hawke’s shaft as Hawke held Anders at the base of his cock. The ache of pleasure in his nerves threatened to break – to shatter through his heated flesh, dragging him closer to his peak with every twitch of Anders’ tongue and every needy whine. Hawke groaned, yanking Anders’ head back by his hair as he let his cock slide from between those tempting, bruised lips. Anders panted for air, face streaked with tears and drool, gazing up at Hawke with raw, desperate need.

“My face,” Anders gasped. “Come on my face – please…”

Hawke let his fingers slide from Anders’ hair, missing the tangle of silk in his grip and the way Anders’ breath caught with every tug at his scalp. His breath was shaking, and when he wrapped his fingers around the spit-slicked length of his cock he almost whimpered at the white-hot burst of pleasure. The crotch of his pants was streaked with Anders’ saliva, his shirt was half un-tucked and damp with sweat, and his hair was hanging in his face, tousled and clinging to his cheeks. At some point he’d have to worry about leaving his office and being _seen_ – but right now he loved it. Standing over Anders, his professional veneer stripped away, cock hard and aching in the tight grip of his fist as he growled Anders’ name and thrust against his palm.

“Please.” Anders’ voice was hoarse, and his tongue darted out to trace the curve of his reddened lips. “ _Please._ ”

Hawke groaned, slick fingers working his length as he rocked forward over Anders’ upturned face. He looked down at him – flushed skin, parted lips, messy and wanton and begging. He swept his fingers over the head of his cock, pre-come clinging to his skin as he trailed the pads over the glistening tip and his hips jerked sharply. It overwhelmed him, stripping him down to sensation and need, the world narrowing until all that existed was the sweet, intense pleasure building under his touch and the eager face of the whimpering man beneath him. Hawke’s hips bucked, and he grunted wordlessly, breath catching raggedly as his cock throbbed and pulsed in the circle of his fingers.

“ _Yes,_ ” Anders breathed. The first streak of Hawke’s come painted his flushed skin, clinging thickly to his cheek and trailing between his parted lips. He moaned, tongue darting out to lap at the sticky trails, eyes fluttering closed.

Hawke grunted again, overwhelmed and his breath coming sharp and hoarse as he stroked himself through the last burning sparks of his climax. His cock pulsed, his seed spilling over Anders’ skin as the blond man moaned and lapped at every drop that landed on his lips.

“That was…” Hawke swallowed, trying to calm his pounding heart. This was his office – Maker, he hadn’t even locked the door. There was a beautiful man on his knees below him, licking his come off his lips and smirking wickedly. “Did we really just..?”

“Looks like we did.” Anders ran his tongue over his upper lip, capturing another descending trail of come. “Maker, you taste good.”

Hawke loosened the knot of his tie and gently eased it over Anders’ hands. His wrists were reddened where the silk had cut in, and Hawke felt a brief flare of worried guilt as Anders rubbed at the marks, rolling his shoulders with a wince. He seemed to sense Hawke’s concern, and grinned up at him, raising one hand to sweep the trail of come from his cheek and slowly lap it from his elegant fingers.

“You’re a worrier,” he said. “Do I really need to tell you how much I liked that, or do you want to find out for yourself?” He spread his knees a little wider, dropping his free hand to cup his straining erection, and bit his lip with a low moan.

Hawke groaned, and hauled Anders to his feet with one hand wrapped around his arm. Standing, Anders was a little taller than him – but slender, all skin and bone and wiry muscle. Hawke thought of pinning him down – of bending him over his desk and pounding into him until he _screamed_ – then Anders was kissing him and he couldn’t think at all.

The salty taste of his own come was heavy on Anders’ tongue, darting between his lips as the blond moaned and pulled him close. A step back and they were against the desk, Anders’ hips bucking against Hawke’s thigh as Hawke’s hands trailed over bare skin. He kneaded Anders’ hips, ran his nails up his spine, then slipped one hand between them to knead at the rigid outline of his cock.

“Yes,” Anders gasped against his lips. Hawke responded with a growl and a nip that left Anders whimpering, and stroked him harder. “Oh Maker, Hawke – please, anything you want just – don’t stop.”

“Are they in Hawke’s office?”

Hawke froze. Anders’ breath caught, lips stilling against Hawke’s. For a moment, neither of them moved.

“That’s Varric,” Anders breathed. “Shit. _Shit._ ”

They sprung apart, Hawke fumbling to tuck his still half-hard cock back into his pants as Anders snatched up his shirt and slid over the desk back to his seat. Hawke stuffed his tie into his desk drawer – there was no chance of getting it back on and presentable in time – and tried to straighten the mess of his crumpled shirt and his sweat-dampened hair as Anders ran his fingers through the tangled mass of blond. He was still red and panting, his jaw damp with drool and – _fuck,_ that was definitely come on his cheek. Hawke slid a box of tissues in his direction, hearing the door handle rattle as he settled himself behind his desk and slid the transcript back into place in front of him.

“Sorry I’m late.” Varric took one step into the room, met Hawke’s gaze, and his eyes narrowed. He took in Hawke’s flushed face and dishevelled appearance, then glanced at Anders and raised an eyebrow. “Did I miss much?”

“I think the situation is uh – more or less resolved,” Hawke said. He closed the file, focusing on neatening the edges of the pages and trying not to look at Anders attempting to subtly wipe his face. “Anders understands the seriousness of this matter, and I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“That’s – it?” Varric smirked and clapped Anders on the back. “Talked your way out of trouble again, Blondie?”

“Something like that.” Anders caught Hawke’s eye, then stood, dropping the crumpled tissue into the bin before Varric could notice it crushed in his hand.

“In that case, I could use him back on the phones,” said Varric. “If you’re uh, finished, that is.”

“I think there was something else..?” Anders glanced at Hawke, biting his lip.

It was tempting to find an excuse to let him stay – but Varric would have enough questions, and besides, after all that teasing, Hawke thought it might be time for some revenge. He leaned back in his chair, and tucked Anders’ file into a drawer.

“We can talk about that later,” he said. “Stop by at the end of your shift – if my office door’s unlocked, I’m here.”

“I’m in until closing.” Anders’ voice was almost pleading, a delicious note of urgency that made Hawke’s pulse quicken and his cock stir. He grinned and gave a casual shrug.

“If you’re in a hurry to get home, it can wait until tomorrow…”

“I’ll come,” Anders said quickly.

“Good.” Hawke raked his gaze over Anders’ body, taking one last look at his ass as he followed Varric to the door. “And stay out of trouble.”

***

“No, Sir, I’m not trying to talk over you I…”

Anders rolled his eyes and dragged his hands over his face. It would have been a long day no matter what, but this was unbearable. Every indignant squawk in his ear dragged over already raw nerves, every declined card and failed credit check seemed to make the clock tick slower, and complaint forms – well, the association alone was enough to send Anders’ thoughts spiralling out of control.

It had been an impulse decision. A risky, stupid decision just as likely to get him fired as it was to save his job. But Hawke was – Anders bit his lip to stifle a groan, leaning back in his chair as the customer ranted in his ear. Garrett Hawke was bloody _gorgeous_. He’d had more than one fantasy of being bent over his desk, headset knocked crooked, post-it notes and whiteboard markers scattered as Hawke thrust into him, panting a constant stream of filth into his ear. When he’d opened his office door and seen him there he’d known – last chance to act on his crush, _and_ the only shot he had at talking his way out of trouble. It had worked – but he was paying for it.

Anders shifted in his chair, trying to subtly escape the tight pressure of his jeans. Surely this had to be medically _dangerous_. It had been hours since he’d left Hawke’s office, and every time he thought he was calming down a memory would hit him like a red-hot blade to the gut and he was back to this. Breath quickened, skin flushed, and cock painfully hard. He’d considered taking matters into his own hands – made it to the bathroom once, hands shaking as he locked the cubicle door behind him and unzipped his jeans. The moment he’d wrapped his fingers around his cock, he’d heard a cough from the end cubicle. No real privacy, and no time to wait for a better moment. He’d returned to his desk aching and desperate, ignoring Isabela’s knowing smirk.

“Absolutely, Mr Rutherford,” he said, tapping out notes in the ranting customer’s file with one hand. “I completely understand your frustration. I can…”

He barely heard the rant that followed, filling out the complaint form on autopilot and hitting the logout button the moment the call disconnected. Finally, the end of his shift – the longest of his life. The last remaining staff were logging out and shutting down their computers all around him, but Anders barely heard calls of goodbye or the tread of feet as he scrambled out of his chair. He could still feel every moment – the tight twist of fabric around his wrists, the ache in his jaw and the trickle of cooling saliva on his chin, the way Hawke’s ragged groans dragged down his spine like fingernails. He needed more than memory and the brief tease of Hawke’s touch – he needed _Hawke._

“In a rush?”

Anders turned to see Varric perched on the edge of his desk, eyes narrowed as he watched Anders pick up his backpack. _Shit._

“Faster I can get out of here, the better.” He grinned and shouldered his bag.

“Thought you were going to see Hawke?”

“Ugh, yeah.” Anders made a show of rolling his eyes. “He let me off with a warning over the accidental phone sex thing, but you know how it goes when upper management start poking through your records. He wants to have an ‘informal chat’ about my sales. Sooner I get it over with, sooner I can get out of here.”

“So he just – _let you off?_ I thought you were gone. Hand over your security pass, out the door, on the spot dismissal. There’s inappropriate comments on the phone and then there’s _that_ – I had to type up the transcript, you know.”

“Fuck my life.”

“I don’t want to hear about anyone else fucking your _anything_.” Varric laughed. “Seriously, Blondie, do you think I was born yesterday? You didn’t get out of this with a sincere apology, and I’m pretty sure I know what I walked in on.”

“I’m getting mixed messages here. Are you asking for details or not?” Anders raised an eyebrow, and Varric sighed and covered his face.

“I’ve known Hawke a while, and from what I know he’s a good guy. Not always the most responsible – but a good guy. Still, I just need to check – this _was_ your idea, not “blow me, or you’re fired,” right?”

“Oh shit, yeah.” Anders grinned. “When is anything inappropriate _not_ my idea?”

“Well, Hawke’s made plenty of questionable decisions all on his own,” Varric chuckled. “But seriously, glad to hear it. Now can I suggest you take him back to your place – or his, it’s nicer – and you don’t manage to fuck your way _into_ trouble the same day you fucked your way out of it?”

“No promises.”

Anders smirked at Varric’s despairing groan and headed for the stairs, pulse racing as he ducked out of the stream of bodies heading down, and made for the fourth floor. Most of the offices were already closed and locked – no one stayed this late if they could avoid it, and department managers generally could. There was one light on at the end of the hall, and Anders’ breath quickened as he approached it. This morning he’d been nervous, picking at his nails as he’d slowly approached the door marked with Garrett Hawke’s name. Tonight, it was all anticipation. The door was unlocked and left ajar. Anders took a deep breath, and entered.

There was a single lamp lit in the office, casting deep shadows across the carpet and reflecting off the polished surface of Hawke’s desk. Hawke was seated behind it, every trace of dishevelment gone from his appearance. His dark hair was smoothed back, and the low light highlighted the angles of his cheekbones and glinted in the dark gold of his eyes as he glanced up, studying Anders as he approached.

“Close the door,” he said quietly, the deep rumble of his voice coiling around Anders’ spine and sending a shiver through his skin. “And perhaps we should lock it, this time?”

“Definitely.”

Anders flipped the catch, listening for the reassuring click, unable to tear his gaze away from Hawke. He’d taken off his suit jacket, and his tie lay on the otherwise clear desk, the crumpled fabric a reminder of just how their last meeting had ended. Anders let his bag fall to the floor and took a step forward, then another at Hawke’s approving growl.

“Stop there.” Hawke drummed his fingers on the desk, looking Anders up and down. He raised one hand and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing a deep V of tanned skin and coarse, dark hair. He ran his thumb over his lower lip, eyes fixed on Anders, gleaming wickedly as a smirk tugged the corner of his mouth. Hawke leaned back in his chair, elbows resting loosely on the arms. “Undress.”

“All of it?” Anders toyed with the hem of his shirt, eyebrow raised.

“All of it.”

Anders wasn’t shy – far from it – but there was something especially exposed about being naked _here,_ like this. The blinds were drawn across the office windows, and the door was locked – but this was still his workplace. He could hear the dim echo of voices on the stairs below, and somewhere not too far away, a vacuum cleaner started up. And Hawke was watching him. Fully clothed, eyes locked intently on him, his intimidating bulk sprawled almost elegantly in his chair as his gaze stripped Anders long before his body was exposed.

Anders pulled his shirt off over his head, and let it fall. The air conditioning was cool against his skin, whispering over the drop of sweat descending his back and tightening his pierced nipples as he slowly unbuckled his belt. The heel of his hand brushed his erection and he gasped – sensitive even through his jeans – and Hawke groaned in response, fingers tightening on the arms of his chair.

“You’re desperate, aren’t you?” Hawke asked. His voice was soft but commanding, and Anders nodded, biting his lip. “Let me hear you.”

“Yes.” Leather hissed on metal and the buckle jingled as the belt fell loose, and Anders unfastened the top button of his jeans, heart pounding. “ _Fuck,_ it’s been hours – I’m more than desperate.”

“You did say you wanted to be punished.” Hawke grinned, eyes following Anders’ fingers hungrily. “Turn around.”

Anders turned – and it was impossible, but he could _feel_ Hawke’s eyes on him. He smirked – Hawke was in control, but he wasn’t the only one who could tease. Anders rolled his shoulders, arching his back as he slowly tugged his zip down, loosening his jeans. He moaned at the relief, his cock confined only by the thin layer of his underwear as the tight denim parted. Behind him, Hawke’s breath caught.

Anders kicked off his shoes, letting his jeans slip lower but now low enough, biting back a chuckle at Hawke’s frustrated groan when he stopped to stoop and tug off his socks.

“Take off your jeans,” Hawke growled.

“You said all of it.” Anders kicked his shoes and socks aside, twisting to look over his shoulder as he straightened up and unfastened his hair tie with a wicked grin. “I’m just being thorough.”

He wondered if Hawke might move – might rise from his chair, stalk forward and pin him against the door. His cock twitched at the thought and Anders bit his lip, slowly easing his jeans down over his hips. He knew he was a little vain – but he also knew just how good his ass looked, and Hawke’s bitten off groan was confirmation that he agreed. Anders hooked his thumbs in his underwear and let them slide down with his jeans, exposing inch after inch of bare skin.

“You’re not the only one who’s had a frustrating afternoon,” Hawke said quietly. “I’ve been waiting for this. Maker, your ass…”

“ _You_ don’t get to complain.” Anders let his jeans and underwear fall down around his thighs. The cool air against his flushed, glistening length made him gasp, and he locked eyes with Hawke over his shoulder as he wrapped his palm around it and gave a slow roll of his hips. “At least you – _nngh_ – got to come.”

“Turn around,” Hawke breathed. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Anders saw the way his eyes raked over his body eagerly.

Anders turned, letting his jeans pool around his feet as he did, and stepping out of the crumpled fabric. Hawke drank him in – lean muscle and freckled skin, tall and slim and very, very naked. Anders bit his lip, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. He knew he looked good, but it had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that, and Hawke still hadn’t shed a single garment. He rolled up his shirt sleeves as he watched Anders, exposing thick, muscular forearms, and gave an approving groan.

“Did I tell you to touch yourself?”

“No.” Anders ran his thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the fluid beaded at the tip. His hips jerked at the white-hot burst of pleasure and he gasped, head thrown back and lip caught between his teeth. “But you like watching – I can tell.”

“I do.” Hawke leaned forward in his chair. “Stop.”

Anders groaned in frustration, and almost disobeyed. He’d barely started and could already feel the hot coil of tension in his gut – after how long he’d waited he could have come in seconds if he’d tried. And it was tempting – Maker, it was tempting. Hawke’s eyes on him, the glimpse of his chest hair and the strong thickness of his arms was all he needed. He could fall to his knees and come whimpering his name and it’d be _enough_.

“Anders,” Hawke growled. He stood, fingertips resting lightly on the desk. “ _Stop.”_

“Fuck.” Anders let his hands fall to his sides, fingers curling into fists as his cock throbbed, hard and heavy and aching to be touched. “Do you want me to beg?”

“Say the word, and we do this differently.” Hawke paced around to the front of his desk and leaned back against it, and Anders’ eyes were drawn to the thick bulk of his thighs, slightly parted, visibly taut beneath the charcoal grey fabric of his pants. “But you mentioned _rough,_ and _punishment_ , and I had some ideas.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’d like to spank you.” Hawke smirked as he watched Anders face – he’d given himself away, and he knew it. Anders could feel his cheeks heat and his eyes widen, and he bit his lip to stop himself from begging for it right then and there. “I’d like to spank you until you can’t take any more – and then I’d like to fuck you.”

“Maker, yes,” Anders breathed.

“And…” Hawke straightened up and took a step forward. Another, and he was within touching distance of Anders, but he didn’t move. He was a little shorter, but he was _big_. Anders hadn’t realised quite how big until he was on his knees in front of him, feeling the strength in those hands and seeing the bulk of Hawke’s body towering above him.

“And?”

“I’d like to see how patient you can be.” Hawke ran his fingertips over Anders’ lips, leaning in so close they were almost touching, so Anders could feel the warmth of his breath. “I’d like to see you bent over my desk, ass bruised, _sobbing_ with frustration, shaking and begging. Waiting until I order you to come.”

“ _Fuck.”_ Anders leaned into Hawke’s touch, and Hawke pulled away with a low chuckle.

“Was that a yes?”

“It was. Maker, you’re going to kill me.”

Hawke’s hand was in his hair before he could blink, twisting until he whimpered. Anders was pulled off balance, stumbling forward as Hawke turned and shoved him towards the desk. His thighs hit the wood and he gasped, bare toes curling in the carpet as Hawke pressed up against his back, panting.

“We have to be quiet,” Hawke said. He bit Anders’ ear – sharp and sudden, his breath hot and quick. Anders bit his lip and nodded, arching his back as he felt the firm bulge of Hawke’s cock pressed against his ass. “ _You_ have to be quiet.”

“I’ll do my best.” Anders gave a breathy laugh, grinding shamelessly against Hawke’s cock until he grunted and bit Anders’ neck. “Don’t make it easy for me.”

“Never.”

Hawke’s hand was firm against his scalp, fingers coiled in Anders’ hair as he pushed him forward. He was almost gentle, but firm – a touch that would not be disobeyed. The raw power in his touch made Anders’ pulse race, a thundering in his ears as he willingly submitted, chest flattened against the desk. Hawke’s grip shifted to the back of his neck and Anders whimpered – _Maker,_ he was making this too easy, desperate need in every shallow gasp and clear in the arch of his back and the shiver in his thighs.

“Should keep you like this all the time.” Hawke laughed, low and rough, and skimmed his palm over Anders’ ass. “You think head office would sign off on that? Take an agent off the phones for important… uh, what would they call this?”

“Inappropriate, probably.”

“Mm, true.” Hawke lightly swatted the back of Anders’ thigh – and it didn’t even count as a strike, but the soft, audible impact was enough to make Anders gasp eagerly. “And I’m not sure how much work I’d get done.”

“Could keep me as a reward?” Anders slid his feet further apart, feeling a flush rise in his face as Hawke’s fingertips kneaded his ass. He was so exposed, and feeling all the more naked for the fact that Hawke _wasn’t_. “One hour of boring paperwork, ten minutes of spanking.”

“Every team hits sales targets, I get to fuck you?”

“Maker, I know you said you were going to test my patience, but I think that’d kill us both.” Anders snorted with laughter, then gasped – high and sharp – as Hawke brought his palm down hard. The heat of the sting radiated across his skin. He could feel Hawke’s handprint – the red, throbbing heat of it splayed across one cheek.

“Joking about sales?” Hawke’s voice was soft but intimidating, low and dangerous as he kneaded soothing circles over the stinging skin. “Careful.”

“Have you seen my sales record?” Anders snorted. “It _is_ a joke.”

Anders rested his head on his forearms, biting his lip, tense and ready for the strike. He heard Hawke shift behind him – then nothing. He was aching with anticipated agony – skin sensitive and tight, spine tingling and toes curling. For a moment he hung at the peak of tension – almost believing Hawke was letting the comment pass – then his hand cracked against Anders’ ass. Hard.

“ _Fuck._ ” His body was rocked forward by the impact, stiff cock brushing against the desk as he clung to the smooth surface by his fingertips, panting raggedly. “You – _fuck_ that stings – didn’t find it funny then?”

“Definitely not,” Hawke growled, and Anders could hear the smirk in his voice. He hit him again, and before Anders could catch his breath, _again_ , quick, sharp slaps that set fire to his nerves. Anders bit his forearm to hold back his scream, keening against his skin as Hawke caressed the reddened flesh. “You need discipline.”

“I do – Maker I _do_.” Anders slid his hands into his hair, lips slack and parted against the polished wood, panting shakily.

The next blow caught Anders on the back of one thigh, making him flinch and cry out. Hawke shushed him with a growl, and hit him again – and again – hard, vicious blows that made him shake and whimper and squirm beneath him. His body fell into the pattern of Hawke’s strikes – every ringing slap and every pounding beat of his heart, every jerk of his overstimulated body, every gasp and nip at his own lip. He lived in the rhythm Hawke set – the aching tension of the stillness between blows, the white-hot burst of pain and pleasure under Hawke’s palm, and the steady rasp of Hawke’s breath from behind him. Anders surrendered to it, mind stripped down to nothing but sensation and need, free-falling with only Hawke to tether him to the world.

Another sharp spank, and Anders was overwhelmed. His legs gave out and he was left slumped over the desk, a shaky whine in every gasp as his skin flinched and shivered under the searing pain blossoming from Hawke’s palm. One hand stayed gripping his hair tightly, clinging as if it was the last anchor stopping him falling apart, and Anders pressed his other fist to his mouth to muffle his shuddering wail as Hawke spanked him again.

“Hey.” Hawke stilled, his palm resting lightly on the small of Anders’ back. “You doing okay there?”

“Yes.” Anders hadn’t realised he was crying until he heard the choke in his voice, slowly becoming aware of the tears trickling over his cheeks. “It’s good – it’s – _Maker,_ Hawke…”

“More?”

“Yeah.” Anders shuddered, letting out a shaky moan as he felt Hawke’s fingertips skim over the curve of his ass. His skin felt as if it was on fire, and even the lightest touch made him flinch. He was on the edge of breaking, but it wasn’t _enough_. It had been too long since he’d let himself feel his limits – since he’d let someone empty his mind and scatter his thoughts like this.

“You tell me,” Hawke said softly. He squeezed Anders’ ass, and he bit down on his fist again to hold back a scream. “You tell me the _second_ it’s too much, okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

Anders blinked, vision blurred as he looked down at the shiny surface of the desk. He could see the damp spots of tears and the smeared saliva from his lips, and the movement of Hawke’s shadow over him as his hand dropped from Anders’ ass. Anders screwed his eyes shut, teeth digging into his skin as he braced for the next strike. His thighs were shaking, cock throbbing urgently against the desk, and every whisper of movement from behind him made him shiver.

Hawke’s palm came down, and Anders’ muffled cry cracked into a sob.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he gasped. Hawke hit him again – a stinging impact that shifted Anders on the desk, almost lifting the balls of his feet from the carpet. Anders howled against his hand, fist tightening in his hair as Hawke’s palm cracked against the bruised flesh of his ass again, and again, and again.

Hawke stilled, and his hand slid from the back of Anders’ neck to trail softly down his trembling back. His fingers kneaded circles in Anders’ skin, sliding lower until he reached his hip, and his fingers curled around the ridge of bone and dug in gently.

“You’re doing so well,” he groaned. Anders felt the brush of his clothed erection against his ass, and heard Hawke’s sharp breath even above his own whimper. Hawke’s second hand caught his other hip, and Anders felt himself lifted and pulled back, positioned over the desk with his ass grinding against Hawke’s cock, and his own length hanging hard and heavy between his thighs.

“Can you stay like this?” Hawke released his hips for a moment, and Anders almost fell against the desk again. His legs felt like jelly, and he could tell by the catch and shudder in his breath his was still trembling. He slid his hand from his hair as Hawke caught him and hauled him up again, and braced both palms on the desk, fingers splayed.

“Y-yeah,” he gasped. “I – I don’t think I can take much more.”

“I know.” Hawke squeezed his hips, thumbs kneading the slight softness of the flesh above Anders’ ass, and his hips rocked against him. “I – honestly, I’m not sure I could wait much longer even if you could. Do you – have _any –_ idea how good you look? How good you sound?”

He punctuated his words with slow bucks of his hips, breathing ragged. His cock was straining the fabric of his pants. Anders could feel him grinding into the cleft of his ass, and the slight roughness of his clothing made him wince where it dragged over his bruised skin.

“Then fuck me.” Hawke groaned in response, grip tightening on Anders’ hips, and Anders bit his lip to hold back a moan. “ _Tease._ Fuck me.”

Hawke moved behind him, hands shifting to grip the cheeks of his ass hard enough that Anders hissed. He felt as if his skin was glowing – he could feel the redness of the flesh, every livid handprint searing into his nerves as Hawke’s fingertips dug into heated, oversensitive skin. Hawke dropped to his knees with a groan, and Anders felt the warmth of his breath against the back of one thigh before Hawke’s lips were on him. He kissed up Anders’ inner thigh, groaning against sweat-damp skin as Anders squirmed and panted in his grip.

The roughness of Hawke’s beard rasped against his balls as Hawke worked higher, sucking marks into pale skin as he gripped Anders tighter, kissed him harder, his teeth grazing the skin with every tug of his lips. Anders spread his legs wider, back arched and straining as Hawke’s teasing kisses burned their way into his body, sending spiralling heat up his bowed spine and curling hot and tight in the pit of his stomach.

The first sweep of Hawke’s tongue almost made him howl – hot and wet, it trailed over his balls down the length of his cock, stopping just before the tip. Hawke’s low chuckle vibrated in his lips as he kissed his way back up Anders’ length, making him pant and writhe and beg incoherently as he pulled away.

“What was that?” Hawke nipped at his inner thigh, and Anders whined helplessly, resting his forehead against the cool, smooth surface of the desk. “Couldn’t quite make it out…”

“Please…” Anders broke off with a gasp as Hawke’s tongue darted out again, over his balls and higher – _Maker, yes –_ and higher still. “More – don’t stop – _fuck_.”

Hawke’s grip on Anders’ ass tightened, and it _hurt_ , but Maker, it felt good. He spread him wide – no teasing now, there was purpose in his touch and urgency in his heated breaths as his tongue swept between Anders’ cheeks and found his entrance. Hawke’s lips, the heat of his mouth, his filthy grunt as he swirled his tongue around the tight ring of muscle – Anders was overwhelmed, oversensitive and desperate as he rocked back against his tongue.

“Yeah?” Hawke’s voice rumbled against his skin. His beard pricked Anders’ skin as his jaw moved, and Anders keened as he felt the slick press of his tongue.

Hawke growled, and his tongue thrust into Anders’ ass. Hawke’s moan was lost in Anders’ skin, drowned out by Anders’ own shaky cry as he threw his head back and his fingers curled into claws against the desk. Hawke’s patience was gone, and Anders could feel it in his touch that there would be no more drawing this out – he wanted him, and wanted him _now_. His jaw worked as he grunted and snarled against Anders’ flesh, tongue dipping and flicking, the thick trickle of his saliva smeared between Anders’ cheeks and sliding over his balls as he fucked him with his tongue. He kneaded roughly at his ass as his lips and tongue worked Anders into panting, whimpering incoherence. His nails dug into swollen, bruised skin, and his tongue thrust shallowly into Anders’ clenching hole, working him open with every grunt and every slick press of his parted lips.

One of Hawke’s hands dropped from his hip for a moment, and Anders heard the sharp snap of a bottle lid being flipped open. At the edge of his vision, Anders saw Hawke set a bottle on the desk, and whimpered in anticipation at the sight. Hawke groaned in response, his tongue swirling around Anders’ flushed, loosening rim, and when his hand returned to Anders’ body his fingers were slicked, slipping up the cleft of Anders’ ass to meet Hawke’s lips.

“Oh – yes – please, _please…_ ” Anders writhed under Hawke’s touch, grinding helplessly against his tongue as Hawke gave a low chuckle against his flesh. The soft pads of his fingers followed the path of his tongue, circling Anders’ entrance as he squirmed and begged before _finally_ pressing firmly against him. Hawke’s lips withdrew, brushing against the bruised skin of Anders’ ass with every breath hot and hoarse – and with a sharp curl of his wrist, he drove his fingers into him.

“ _Yes…_ ” Anders thrust back against Hawke’s hand, pushing himself down on the thick fingers with a shudder of raw pleasure. It had been too long, Maker, how had he survived without this? He lost himself in the slick glide of Hawke’s skin, the sweet, aching stretch as he fucked himself open, riding Hawke’s hand shamelessly as he panted against the desk. His lips were slack, his shoulders shaking, and his mind empty of everything except sensation and need.

“That good?” Hawke nipped at Anders’ inner thigh, making him yelp.

“What – do you _think?_ ” Hawke’s fingers curled inside him and Anders moaned. “Fuck – _there_.”

“Ssh.” Hawke’s teeth grazed over his skin, and he bit down on his ass, groaning softly against the skin. “Maker, I want to make you scream. But not here. Can you be quiet?”

“I – I’ll try.”

Anders parted his legs further, hips jerking as he impaled himself on the thick press of Hawke’s fingers. He could hear the slick sounds of them moving in him, and every brush of Hawke’s fingertips against the sensitive place inside him made him almost sob with pleasure. He couldn’t resist – knew even as he slipped one hand underneath his body that Hawke wouldn’t allow this, but he was desperate. He needed to be touched, he needed heat and friction against his cock, needed to come screaming Hawke’s name. His fingers curled around his length and he whimpered with relief, thrusting against his palm as Hawke’s fingers pumped into him and his teeth left stinging indents in his flesh.

“Anders…”

“Please,” he gasped. “Hawke – please, let me…”

“I’ll let you come.” Hawke was on his feet in an instant, the strokes of his fingers turning fast and hard as he pressed up against Anders’ thigh with a groan. His other hand caught Anders’ wrist, pinning it effortlessly behind his back with a growl, leaving Anders biting his lip to hold back a wail of frustrated need. “When you’ve _earned_ it.”

“Hawke – you _bastard_ – please…”

“That’s no way to talk to your boss.” Hawke chuckled, and Anders gasped as a third finger slid into him, thrusting hard as he panted helplessly against the desk. “Other hand behind your back. Now.”

Anders obeyed, head twisted to look over his shoulder as Hawke pinned his wrists at the small of his back. He could see Hawke’s fingers sliding into him, the flexing in his forearm as he thrust hard enough to shift Anders on the desk. The wood creaked beneath him, rocked by the thrusts of Hawke’s fingers, and by Hawke’s bulk as he rutted shamelessly against Anders’ thigh, face flushed and panting.

“Fuck me,” Anders moaned. “Hawke I’m – I’m ready, I’m so ready, fuck me _please_.”

“Believe me – I’m not waiting any longer than I have to.” Hawke’s grip tightened on his wrists, and Anders bit his lip to muffle his cry as Hawke’s fingers slammed into him, stretching him wider. “You’re going to _have_ to keep quite. Maker – there are cleaners on this floor right now, if we get caught…”

“I’ll be quiet, I just – _fuck_ …” Anders’ body arched, shoulders straining as he squirmed under Hawke’s restraining weight. “I need you – need your cock – _Maker…_ ”

“I’m going to let go of your hands.” Hawke’s fingers stilled in him, and Anders rolled his hips, desperately chasing just one more thrust. “Just for a moment. Can you behave?”

“Yes _boss._ ”

Hawke’s hips jerked against him once more, accompanied by a low groan. Anders smirked despite his frustration – Hawke might have him begging and desperate, but he still had the power to tease a little himself. He wriggled his ass, shifting his feet further apart until his cock rested against the desk and his thighs were shuddering from the strain. He knew how good he looked, and could hear Hawke’s need in his roughened breath as he unzipped his pants and rolled on a condom one-handed, still working his fingers inside Anders.

“I mean it,” he said, biting his lip with a groan as he slicked his shaft, spilling a thick smear of lube across the desk. “Silent. Or I’ll have to stop.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“True.” Hawke gave a low, breathless laugh, and the slick, firm pressure of his fingers withdrew. Anders swallowed his whimper at the loss, gasping as he felt Hawke grip his ass and spread him. “I might gag you though.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Anders raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea how much I’d… _ah_ …”

Hawke’s fingers had left him loosened and slick, but nothing could have prepared him for the solid thickness of Hawke’s cock. Anders could see the rigid girth gleaming wetly in the low light, lined up against his ass as Hawke rocked forward – but Maker, he hadn’t realised _quite_ how big Hawke was until he felt the slicked, blunt head being pushed into him. He watched over his shoulder, panting raggedly as Hawke’s nails dug into his ass, rippling the flesh. The slow, sweet burn of the stretch stoked the fire in his flesh, sending waves of pleasure rippling through him as Hawke pushed forward, rolling his hips as he worked in deeper.

“I spent – the whole – afternoon – thinking about this,” Hawke panted. Anders’ looked up his body, over the crisp white fabric of his shirt, half-untucked and damp with sweat where it clung to Hawke’s chest. His gaze lingered on the exposed skin at Hawke’s collar, on the dark, coarse hair and the beaded sweat in the hollow between his collarbones.

“Yeah?”

”Y-yeah.” Hawke groaned, and Anders’ gaze flicked to his face. His full lips were parted, slack and panting as he gave another shallow rock of his hips. “About how good you’d look – stretched around my cock, bruised and shaking and – _fuck, Anders._ ”

His thick thighs twitched, and his hips jerked forward, one hand snatching out to grip Anders’ wrists again. Anders bit his lip until he tasted blood to hold back a scream – Hawke had sunk fully into him, he could feel the parted fabric of his pants and the thick hair at the base of his cock pressed against his ass. He was stretched and filled by every inch of him, the impressive girth twitching and hard inside him as Hawke gasped and hunched forward over him.

“As – good as you imagined?” Anders panted. He wasn’t sure how he could still speak – Maker, he wasn’t sure how he could still _think._ His neglected cock throbbed against the cool surface of the desk, smearing pre-come against his stomach as he ground helplessly back against Hawke’s length – chasing friction, chasing anything.

“Better.” Hawke gave a slow, steady thrust, grunting roughly under his breath as he rolled his hips against Anders’ spread, flushed ass. “You’re – _nngh –_ fucking perfect.”

His next thrust almost made Anders scream, despite Hawke’s warnings, despite the creak of floorboards outside the door and the hum of the vacuum. He could worry about his job tomorrow, right now Hawke was fucking him – hard, deep, his hips snapping against Anders’ ass hard enough to inch the desk across the floor. The pressure on his wrists, and the nails digging into his hip as Hawke’s cock slammed into him again – every touch was undoing his control, leaving him whimpering against his bitten lower lip as he slumped against the desk and took everything Hawke gave him, breath coming in shallow gasps.

Anders twisted until his back ached, until his eyes watered, eyes locked on Hawke as he sped up his thrusts. His broad body moved with raw power, chest heaving with every ragged breath, hips snapping as he pounded into Anders’ spread, slick ass, grunting low and urgent under his breath as his thick cock slid between pert, bruised cheeks. He met Anders’ eye and groaned, hair falling in his eyes and lower lip caught between his teeth as he gave a viciously hard thrust that left them both gasping. The desk creaked, groaned, snagged in the carpet and inched forward again, and Anders was driven forward with it. Hawke pounded into him, his burning gaze pinning Anders every bit as much as the weight on his wrists, writhing on Hawke’s cock and fighting to hold back every breathless whimper driven from him.

“Maker,” Hawke groaned. He released Anders’ wrists, falling forward over him with his hand braced on the desk, fingertips brushing the splayed tips of Anders’ hair.

Anders’ hands were free – and he could have had his palm wrapped around his cock in an instant, but with Hawke’s body moving over him and the heat of his breath on the back of his neck, all he wanted was to submit. He slid his hands into his hair, tugging in time with the rhythm of Hawke’s thrusts as Hawke’s free hand drifted from his ass up over the narrowness of his waist, nails dragging over his ribs before slipping underneath him to thumb one nipple ring.

“Yes,” Anders breathed. Hawke tugged, lightly at first, then harder as Anders buried his face against his own forearm to muffle a cry.

Hawke’s lips brushed the back of Anders’ neck, trailing up the raised bumps of his spine. His hips jerked frantically, shirt coming untucked and crumpled fabric whispering over Anders’ skin. Anders wasn’t sure he’d _need_ to touch himself – Hawke fucked down into him, brushing the spot that made his toes curl and breath catch, sweat trickling down his back as his skin heated and his pleasure built under the deep, pounding thrusts. Hawke’s teeth grazed his ear and he whimpered against his arm, sensation and desire and the desperate ache of frustration building until he choked on a scream.

“Ssh.” Hawke bit down on his shoulder with a growl, twisting his nipple ring until he yelped. His hand splayed on Anders’ chest, nails raking down his skin as his hand withdrew, leaving Anders gasping.

He heard the clink of Hawke’s belt buckle and the smooth hiss of leather on fabric, and when the soft leather brushed his thigh he whimpered, flinching instinctively as it caressed his bruised flesh.

“If you don’t want this…” Hawke’s lips brushed his ear, breath hot and urgent. Another rock of his hips, his cock throbbing thick and rigid inside Anders’ slicked, stretched hole, and Hawke’s voice broke into a ragged groan as Anders arched beneath him.

“I can take a little more.”

Hawke straightened up, his hand wrapping lightly around Anders’ throat to pull him with him. The unyielding bulk of Hawke’s chest at his back and the thick weight of his arm across his chest pinned him effortlessly, and Anders’ gasps pitched higher as Hawke mouthed at his shoulder and doubled his belt over in his fist. Anders could feel something soft trapped between Hawke’s fingers, trailing down his heaving chest, but it wasn’t until Hawke’s hand slid higher, fingertips brushing his lips, that he realised what it was. Hawke’s tie was missing from the desk.

“Open your mouth,” Hawke murmured. He bucked his hips, jerking Anders’ body in his arms, and Anders’ moan spilled loose as he parted his lips to accept Hawke’s fingers. “This is _definitely_ going to make you scream.”

He chuckled, low and filthy as he thrust again and nipped at Anders’ ear. He eased the crumpled silk between Anders’ teeth as Anders sucked eagerly at his fingers, muffling his whimpers against the warm, salty taste of Hawke’s skin and shivering in anticipation as Hawke’s belt brushed his thigh with every rock of his hips.

The tie slipped into his mouth inch by inch, replacing Hawke’s fingers, wet silk caught between his teeth as Hawke forced the fabric between his lips. Anders let his head fall back against Hawke’s shoulder, panting raggedly as he mouthed at the damp fabric, his urgent moans stifled as Hawke’s hand wandered down to squeeze his neck again, then lower to grip firmly at his chest.

“Should be able to spit that out, if you need to.” Hawke grunted, his thrusts quickening as he pulled Anders tighter against him. “If you need me to stop quickly, pinch me. Hard, okay?”

Anders nodded, teeth gritted in the gag. He was shaking in Hawke’s arms, his cock throbbing in time with his pounding heartbeat, skin flushed and tight. The leather dragged over his thigh again, following the aching reminders of Hawke’s hand, and when Hawke drew back, Anders whimpered in anticipated agony, body taut and trembling as his eyes fluttered closed.

Hawke’s belt cracked against his thigh, and Anders howled. He ground his teeth in the damp fabric, eyes watering as he arched and shuddered in Hawke’s grip. White-hot pain blossomed through his skin, curling through the liquid pleasure building inside him and setting every nerve alight. He was boneless in Hawke’s arms, shaking and whimpering, every breath a high, urgent keen as the belt whipped across his skin again.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Hawke grunted against his ear. He hit him again, catching the side of his ass and awakening a fresh wave of scalding pain in the bruises left by his palm. Tears trickled from the corners of Anders’ eyes, tracing the sharp edge of his jaw.

Hawke’s arm dropped to his waist, and he let him fall, pitching forward against the desk with a muffled cry. With Anders bent forward under him, body pliant and glistening with sweat as he whimpered and gasped, Hawke was relentless. His belt cracked across the curve of Anders’ ass – again, and again, and _again_ – until he was sobbing into the comforting thickness of the gag, face buried in the crook of his arm to muffle the high, desperate keens Hawke dragged from him. Every harsh impact was followed by a deep thrust, Hawke’s cock pounding into him, stretching him to the edge of what he could take. Anders’ entrance was slick and loosened, and he could hear the wet glide of Hawke’s cock as it slammed into him, along with the snap of leather and Hawke’s barely-contained growls and roughened moans.

“Bloody fucking _Maker,_ ” Hawke growled.

Another crack of the belt and Anders almost broke – almost reached out and pinched him – but he didn’t. He hung on the edge of agony, teetering but not falling, caught up in the exquisite rush of sensation drowning out all thought. Hawke’s cock pulsed inside him, and the next impact was clumsy and faltering, licking a line of agony down Anders’ thigh as Hawke’s hips stuttered and jerked against Anders’ ass.

Hawke dropped the belt, his shaking hand letting it collapse to the floor before seizing Anders’ ass and gripping him tight. He pulled Anders’ ass up against him, his other hand slipping beneath him to wrap around his cock – finally giving him what he needed, stroking firmly as his breath dropped into harsh, growling pants and his thrusts became erratic.

“Come,” he snarled. His fist pumped Anders’ cock, rough and urgent as his rasping voice seemed to sink into his shaking flesh. “Maker – Anders, I need – let me feel you – _fuck…_ ”

Everything inside Anders seemed to shatter – all restraint fleeing as his overstimulated body submitted to Hawke’s will. Pain and pleasure, the utter bliss of Hawke’s touch and the flickering agony still searing through him. Every sensation blurred into one as Anders’ body arched, his hips jerked, and he clawed blindly behind him to curl his fists in Hawke’s hair as Hawke fell forward over him, gasping his name. Anders sobbed against the gag, high, urgent cries lost in the crumpled silk. His cock pulsed in Hawke’s fist, and he felt the hot, slick spill of his come drip down his twitching shaft.

“ _Yes…_ ” Hawke’s forehead rested against his back, panting hoarsely. “Oh – _fuck,_ Anders…”

He pulled out with a groan, leaving Anders sprawled across his desk, whimpering at the loss. Anders heard the snap of the condom being pulled off roughly, heard Hawke’s low, rough grunt, and a moment later, the warm splash of Hawke’s seed streaked across his lower back.

Anders wasn’t sure how long he lay there, clinging to Hawke’s hair as Hawke slumped against his back, both gasping and drenched in sweat. It was Hawke who moved first, gently pulling Anders to his feet before sinking to his knees on the carpet, hauling the naked blond into his lap. Anders let Hawke pull him close against his chest, two thick fingers dipping between his lips to gently tug the balled-up tie loose.

“Worth the wait?”

“Mmhmm.” Anders ran his tongue over his lips – they felt bruised. Maker, _all_ of him felt bruised. He shifted in Hawke’s lap until he was facing him, straddling his thighs and looking down at his face. He was certainly dishevelled now – hair hanging in his face, shirt sweat-soaked and clinging to his muscular frame, and his skin flushed and glistening in the low light. Anders dipped his head and kissed him, moaning at the catch in Hawke’s breath as his tongue swept over Anders’ lower lip, and his hand slid up to tangle in the tousled mass of blond hair.

“We can’t keep doing this at work,” Hawke breathed as they broke apart. He kissed the tip of Anders’ nose with a smirk. “If no one heard that, it’ll be a miracle.”

“Not my fault.” Anders grinned, threading his fingers through Hawke’s hair. “They can’t prove it was either of us. _Someone_ had sex in your office. Great, loud, very kinky sex. All you did was forget to lock up when you left a couple of hours ago.”

“I don’t know if I should be taking advice from you, given your very recent record of being in serious trouble at work.”

“You should be _begging_ for my advice,” Anders said with a laugh. “I got out of it, didn’t I?”

“That you did.”

Hawke wrapped one arm around his waist, eyes gleaming wickedly in the low light. He nipped at Anders’ neck playfully, pulling him close against his body, against the creased fabric of his ruined suit, and against his half-hard cock that pressed up against Anders’ bare thigh.

“We probably shouldn’t leave until the cleaners do,” Hawke murmured against his ear.

“Absolutely.”

“It could be _hours_.”

Anders groaned, head thrown back as Hawke’s lips traced a burning line from his jawline to his collarbone, teasing kisses cut with rough grazes of teeth. He was sore from head to toe, exhausted and broken – but as long as Hawke was touching him, he couldn’t help but want more. Hawke glanced up at him from beneath the fall of his hair, one eyebrow raised, lips curling into a smirk as he watched Anders flush and gasp above him.

“Maker,” Anders breathed. “I hope so.”

 


End file.
